t mind, I am coming with you."

Lewis stared, incredulous.

"It's quite true. I am serious enough. I am doing nothing at the Bar,
and I want to travel, proper travelling, where you are not coddled with
railways and hotels."

"But it's hideously risky, and probably very arduous and thankless. You
will tire of it in a week."

"I won't," said George, "and in any case I'll make my book for that.
You must let me come, Lewie. I simply couldn't stand your going off
alone."

"But I may have to leave you. There are places where one can go when
two can't."

"When you come to that sort of place I'll stay behind. I'll be quite
under your orders."

"Well, at any rate take some time to think over it."

"Bless you, I don't want time to think over it," cried George. "I know
my own mind. It's the chance I've been waiting on for years."

"Thanks tremendously then, my dear chap," said Lewis, very ill at ease.
"It's very good of you. I must wire at once to Tommy."

"I'll take it down, if you like. I want to try that new mare of yours
in the dog-cart."

When his host had left the room George forgot to light his pipe, but
walked instead to the window and whistled solemnly. "Poor old man," he
said softly to himself, "it had to come to this, but I'm hanged if he
doesn't take it like a Trojan." And he added certain striking comments
on the ways of womankind and the afflictions of life, which, being
expressed in Mr. Winterham's curious phraseology, need not be set down.

Alice had gone out after lunch to walk to Gledsmuir, seeking in the
bitter cold and the dawning storm the freshness which comes from
conflict. All the way down the glen the north wind had stung her cheeks
to crimson and blown stray curls about her ears; but when she left the
little market-place to return she found a fine snow powdering the earth,
and a haze creeping over the hills which threatened storm. A mile of
the weather delighted her, but after that she grew weary. When the fall
thickened she sought the shelter of a way-side cottage, with the purpose
of either sending to Glenavelin for a carriage or waiting for the
off-chance of a farmer's gig.

By four o'clock the snow showed no sign of clearing, but fell in the
same steady, noiseless drift. The mistress of the place made the girl
tea and dispatched her son to Glenavelin. But the errand would take
time, for the boy was small, and Alice, ever impatient, stood drumming
on the panes, watching the dreary we